


In Your Eyes, A Tragedy

by DefaltManifesto



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Spoilers for Eruyt village
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Fran curled against him, her long nails dug into the flesh of his neck, and her lips worried at the base of his throat. She shook, trembling with emotions she struggled so hard not to feel. He knew it was getting harder. The further from the Wood she grew, the more Hume she became.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Eyes, A Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't do this often, but if you listen to the song La Belle et le Capitaine by Frank Ticheli I think you will find it adds another element to this fic. I listened to it while writing this piece. I hope you enjoy, feedback is always welcome.

The Gran Kiltias allowed them one night of rest in the temple halls. Balthier had his own room, sure, and with a chance for privacy after months he was insane to actually turn it down and instead crawl into bed beside Fran.  It didn't happen often, not like this at least. Sleeping together was frequent, tangled limbs and the occasional elbow to the face or stomach as they shifted in their sleep, but this? The cuddling, the stroking hands up and down the soft skin of her back; that was rare.

Fran wasn't a big fan of clothes, none of the Viera were. It had nothing to do with wanting to appear attractive. The Viera did not often like touch of any kind, fabric or otherwise. Fran had tried to explain, saying that the Mist made it nearly impossible for them to feel it anyways. It had something to do with invisible receptors that helped them pick up on the magic of the Mist and the Wood, and they could sense it better when there was as little as possible between them and the air. The more access they had to the Mist, the stronger they were, and the harder it was to cut their skin. The Mist, she said, was usually better armor than the metal of the Humes, and so they went without it as much as possible.

At night, when it was just her and Balthier in the tent, she would often strip to nothing and curl up with him. He didn't know why, if she could barely feel him, but she said being held made it easier to rest.

But tonight it was different. As Fran curled against him, her long nails dug into the flesh of his neck, and her lips worried at the base of his throat. She shook, trembling with emotions she struggled so hard not to feel. He knew it was getting harder. The further from the Wood she grew, the more Hume she became.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, hands smoothing down her spine.

"I do not know if there are words," she whispered into his skin.

"I won't judge you, Fran."

"I am aware," she said, her tone lighter than it had been. "The Wood...it troubles me that I cannot hear its call. I wonder if it will let me back again."

"She tried to keep you there," Balthier said, shifting to roll onto his back and tugging Fran to lie over his chest.

"The Elder Wyrm? I do wonder if he did not mean to kill me. Jote...she lied to me," Fran said. She propped her chin on Balthier's bare chest to look at him. Her white hair trailed over his shoulder into a tangled mess. "She said the Wood was jealous that I was leaving, but the Elder Wyrm, he did not temper his blows when he hit me. He meant to prevent me from leaving, even if it killed me."

Balthier pressed harder against her spine and she gave a soft sigh against his neck. It was difficult to make her really _feel_ him sometimes. It would be easier as she aged and grew away from the Wood, as she lost her ability to cloak the Mist around her like a shield, but as she did, he would too. Though he didn't like to think it, perhaps he would be long gone by the time she felt truly Hume.

"You have us," Balthier said after a moment. "We're not leaving you."

"We? You do not put such faith in our companions, do you?"

Balthier couldn't help a soft chuckle. "Perhaps not. But you know that I won't."

She curled tighter on him. "I know."

He kissed her forehead. Blankets were a no when she slept with him, so he kept them kicked down to the end of the bed and instead curled an arm tight around her as they drifted to sleep.

 

-.-

 

Fran woke sometime in the night, clawing at Balthier's chest and begging for something in a language he could not understand. He caught her wrists in one of his hands and rolled on top of her, pinning her arms above her head. The position jolted her awake and she threw him off with a powerful kick of her legs. He wasn't too bothered; he had awoken Fran from her nightmares on a number of occasions, and such treatment was not new.

He stayed where she had tossed him for a while, waiting for her to calm down from where she panted on his bed, hand pressed to her forehead. "When you want me back up there, just let me know."

"I apologize," Fran said after a moment. "I would have you back here."

Balthier got to his feet, hissing at the cold tile before climbing into bed. Fran tucked up against him almost immediately. "You don't need to apologize, Fran. We're beyond that."

"It seems polite," she said with a small shrug.  

"What did you dream about?"

Her ears twitched against his chin, probably in irritation. "The Wood. She dragged me back. She would not let me go. She made me watch as the world moved on without me. It was upsetting."

"I cannot begin to imagine," he said honestly.

"Balthier." His name was a sigh on her lips as she pulled herself up so that they were eye to eye. Her legs straddled his hips, her long fingered hands on either side of his head. "I do not desire sleep just yet. This mind races too fast."

"Hm." He ran a hand down her spine, then pressed his lips to hers. She was not rough. People thought she would be, but she was always surprisingly gentle with him, as if she was aware of her strength, and while she always urged for rougher touches just so she could feel _something_ , she was careful not to overwhelm him.

Balthier rolled her onto her back and kissed his way down between her breasts, fingers pinching and rolling her nipples and he licked and sucked. He sucked hard enough to bruise, so that her hips were rolling into his and she was giving soft, barely muted sighs.

Over the years, he had learned how to play Fran's body, learned what she felt strongest and what made her twist away. It took awhile to work her body up to pleasure, constant touches and licks and kisses before her body finally began to register what was being done. He did not mind taking the time. Done right, he could have Fran floating blissfully into sleep with no nightmares trying to drag her away.

He hovered where leg met hip for a long while, until her dark flesh was darkened further by the bruises he sucked into her skin, and her muscles were jumping in her thighs. It always made something in his chest ache when he got a good look at her as the pleasure finally began to seep into her skin, her eyes widening at the feeling still so rare and unfamiliar to her.

Her leg hooked around his lower back, heel digging into him as his tongue flicked out to tease her clit. She was still careful, hands mostly clawing at the sheets as he licked, soft and light. She was still in control, and he fully intended to drive her mad. Balthier ran his hands up her thighs, spread them wider as his tongue slid over the slit of her wet warmth and teased at the nub.

Fran's sighs were still soft, but from the way her heel was mindlessly rubbing into his back, he was sure that it wouldn't be long before he finally provided enough stimulation to bring forth the cries he so rarely heard. It was a challenge, but not one he minded. Anything to make Fran forget the pain she felt so deep in her bones, if only for a moment.

She was wet, soaking the cloth beneath her, and he had yet to breach her with a finger. He was sure if he did, he would find her hands leave the sheets for a firm grasp on his hair. Balthier pulled back to press a sloppy kiss to her thigh as he trailed a hand up and finally slid a finger in. Fran's mouth opened wide and her back arched, legs wrapping firmly around him as her fingers left the sheets to rake over his head. One slid to grasp and squeeze his neck as his mouth returned to tease her clit.

"Balthier..." His name was a gasp falling from her lips as a second finger joined the first, rubbing at her warm inner walls as his tongue relentlessly flicked over her clit.

Where other women had pushed him away from overstimulation, Fran merely pulled him closer, hips bucking up for more. He didn't hesitate to give it. His fingers rubbed and explored for a long while, driving her insane before he sought out the spot that would tear the cry he so longed to hear from her throat.

It wasn't his name, it wasn't anything in a language he knew, and it was almost a scream as his fingers rubbed unrelentingly at the spot. The taste of her was sweet, different than any woman, and he drank it in, tongue joining his fingers as she trembled and shook in his grip. He rode out the climax as she writhed and twisted against him, his name almost a sob as she finally fell limp beneath him.

Balthier was gentle as he eased his fingers out of her. She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest heaving and eyes closed. He folded his legs beneath him as he sat down beside her, fingers trailing softly up and down her belly. He knew that while her body was now sensitive in ways it normally wasn't, such a touch as this would be comforting, not overwhelming.

After awhile, she turned and curled on her side, her own hand stretching out, nails raking lightly over his clothed thigh. It was his permission to get up and do what he needed to make sure they were both settled.

He was grateful that they were in such an opulent palace; it meant they got a connecting bathroom. There were towels provided, and he soaked one in water warmed by a gentle fire spell. When he returned, Fran had turned up one of the thinner blankets to cover the mess they had made so they could sleep in peace, and had stretched out a top it.

"Think you'll be able to find sleep now?" he asked as he climbed onto the bed. He rubbed her down gently with the towel, smiling as she gave a contented sigh and arched into the warmth.

By the time the towel cooled and Balthier had set it aside, Fran was dry and alert enough to answer. "Sleep will have less trouble now, I think."

Balthier tossed the towel away carelessly before grabbing Fran and tucking her against his chest. She twined her hands with one of his. "Good." He didn't know what else to say. She knew she could ask whenever she wanted to be taken out of her mind long enough to sleep, but it was rare. He wished there was another way. Hume tea had worked for awhile, and still did sometimes, but there were times like these, rare as they were, when she needed touch, something she had been denied for so long.

"One day, I would like to return the favor," she said, her voice little more than a sleepy murmur.

He kissed the back her neck, hand running through the silk strands of her white hair. "You will never owe me anything, my love."

"Hm, a Hume pirate always wants something." The words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them.

"Just you, Fran. You're all I'll ever need."

For a long while, there was nothing, and he had thought sleep had claimed her. But then, as his own eyes drifted close and sleep began to claim him, he heard her speak.

"Such truths...they are far prettier than a lie, beloved. Thank you."

They did not dream, and only found peace. 


End file.
